Primarily the sound of asphalt running under the tread of tires. Long stretches of highway and quiet that unwinds as you move through it. I miss it and hate it all at once. So much of our culture stems from cars, highways, the everyday movement of the individual from home to work to play to home again. Gasoline. But isolation too — that is the part I can get into. The small private space between four-doors.
And from this we can hear traffic, brakes, semis going over the line on the interstate. Service station dings and fuel pumping in the car. Auto lock, windshield wipers keeping beat and even if it doesn’t make a sound, we all have a moment of self appraisal in the rear view.
Driving. It has its moments; but the best thing it can do is lead me to the sound I crave — the voices of my family, my friends. The real soundtrack has everyone’s laughter mixed in. Anticipation and cruise control. Soon, soon, soon.